La Police Nationale

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Saturday I got to wear an official, funny French Police Nationale hat.

My friend Clarice (from UCSD) is here to visit for a few days, so we went on a big walking tour/shopping trip around Marseille. On our way down Canebière towards the port, we kept running into increasingly large numbers of policemen clustered in little groups, decked out in full riot gear and looking (at least as far as a French policeman can) intensely fierce and ready for trouble. What was interesting was that there didn’t seem to be anyone to protect against, as the streets were full to bursting, but only with the hordes of tourists who’d descended for one last Provençal hurrah before the end of the season. Being the inquisitive type, I asked a group what was happening that necessitated such a show of force. The policeman standing at the edge of the cadre informed me they were there for a manifestation (likely the most widely-practiced communal activity in France, second only to [though often co-occuring with] the strike). Apparently the G7 finance ministers were meeting in Marseille and a big protest was planned. What would they be protesting? I asked. “Capitalism,” my new police pal said, downright derisively. “Finance. The markets. The world. Everything.” (Clearly he’d chosen his side in this battle well.)

As per usual, I got asked where I was from¹, and this launched a whole discussion between me and 3 or 4 of the nearby policemen, all of whom were obviously bored with all this standing around waiting for the protest to show up.

After the protest passed by, we wandered around the market some more, and then started off back home. On the street perpendicular to my own, we encountered our friendly policemen again, who accused us of following them around. (Not true!) We went to my apartment, laughing about their ridiculous hats the entire way back. (Seriously, how much fear can be inspired in the masses by people wearing the kind of hats you folded out of a sheet of newspaper back in 2nd grade?)

As luck would have it, on our way back out (this time to buy cheeeeeese!), we ran into them once more. We decided this was a sign, and so went over to ask to try on their hats. They very enthusiastically agreed, and also offered up their official anti-riot helmets and shield.

Et voila the photographic evidence:

After the hat photo-op, two of them then proceeded to rip off various official police badges and give them to us. That was a bit strange, admittedly. The bottom one will be going on my office door, though.


As per usual, we got invited out for a drink, which we politely declined, given that, among other obvious reasons, we already were going to a birthday party that night. Turned out to be a good choice, as this party turned into an all-night secret Marseillaise clubbing adventure and then a walk home timed to see the sun rise….
.
.
.
1. The one upside of my intense accent is that it certainly facilitates unexpected social interactions. Maybe I should start affecting an accent in English in San Diego? Just think who I’ll meet!